The Awakening Of The Last Male Heir Of Black
by Proud Blood-Traitor
Summary: The reason that Sirius Black is alive. Just a little drabble that I needed to write.


Hermione Granger traced her hand over the veil's frame cursing softly as she held back the tears. In one small hour those seven years ago she had lost so much. A best friend that smiled, a house full of happiness and hope, a dear friend. She bought her hand back up to the flat topped stand of the daemonic veil that had ripped out part of her soul like a destroyed horcrux. She sighed helplessly. Sirius Black should have been at the final battle, he should have been laughing in the face of danger. Teasing his friends and baiting his foes. Padfoot should still be laughing and living, offering suggestions at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Fred, Remus and Tonks had survived death, couldn't Sirius?

Because he died. Fred, Remus and Tonks never died, they were merely thought dead. They were 'killed' by non-magical objects A small unwanted voice at the back of her head sneered at her. She sniffed. Silent tears started to pour down her face. In fifth year they had gotten closer, he telling her of his desire to be free, herself telling him of her disastrous love life. Even if Ronald Weasley had turned out to be as compatible for her as Victor had been. They had grown to be great friends the year he had died.

Hermione's thoughts turned to anger. Why had they duelled in that room? Why had he taken on Bellatrix Lestrange by himself? Why had Bellatrix killed her own cousin? However deep in her heart she knew the answers. Because the Death Eaters found them there. Because everyone else was already dueling or in no such state to do so. Because she was a mentally unstable bitch, because she loved her 'master'. Because she loved glory. Because she hated him. In a fit of rage Hermione slammed her palm against the flat-topped stand.

A blood curdling scream could be heard from the other end of the ministry, where currently the Minister of Magic and his secretary resided. Percy Weasley bolted up from the armchair he was resting in, the rare moment that the minister and himself had for relaxing was disturbed and he would have been angry if the cry wasn't so anguished.

Bloody hell Kingsley, what was that? his pompous manner coming back after the five years that he had trained it to keep well below the surface at Fred's request. He would do anything for that man now, his near loss reminded him after every prank that grated on his nerves. Thanks to his little brother he got to live again.

I know not, son The minister of magic had become close to the boy in the years that he had been Minister. The boy was loyal but he always stood up to what he believed in, even if that meant turning his back on his family. Many people hated him for this, thinking him Voldemorts ministry puppet. Kingsley Shacklebolt however knew the truth. He was merely a true Gryffindor, a brave and strong man. Let us go examine. I think the scene in question came from The Department of Mysteries. Shacklebolt said this in his usual calm and controlling voice.

They arrived in Bedlam. That was the first impression of the Half-Blood minister and a knowledgeable wizard of muggle history. Many of his staff were staring speechless at the veil, others were squealing and generally running around like headless chickens. The rest, although there were few were trying to detach something from the stand the veil was sitting in.

What's happening? Percy tried to make himself heard, only catching the attention of a few people around him who had a lesser clue than himself.  
Kingsley Shacklebolt held his breath before releasing it as he held his wand to his throat repeating the sonorous charm. "Calm down! Out of the way and let us through please" he stated in an unusually stressed voice. The many ministry workers seperated at the sound of the anxious ministers voice. As quiet settled Kingsley and Percy heard a familiar voice, although the voice was usually gales of laughter, smiles and warm words.  
"Hermione? Mione? Oh My God Hermione!" Percy exclaimed his voice registering complete shock. He ran at the veil, only complete worry etched in his face. As Hermione Granger had slammed her hand in to the flat topped stand on the veil it had sharpened, sharpened to the point in which it has driven itself through her hand, it was feeding on her blood, weakening her to the point of blacking out. He stumbled falling over himself to get to the great friend she had truly become over the years. He fell again his feet stretchingout in odd directions as his top half became incased in the veil.

"PERCY!" voices were heard screaming his name, Hermiones' most powerful of all as she revived herself from the continual blacking out. She watched, it was different from Sirius' death, Percy seemed to be being pushed out. No, It didn't seem to be him out, he was being pushed out, and something, someone was following him. Hermione Granger's hand was released by the veil as the figure stepped out clutching Percy Weasley's arm. "Hello all! Who drained there blood for me then, not that I'm not grateful and all but you could have died?" The figure smiled easily recognisable now.  
"SIRIUS!" 


End file.
